


First-Name Basis

by sayasamax3



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Hand Jobs, M/M, Names, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-11
Updated: 2015-01-11
Packaged: 2018-03-07 03:32:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3159629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sayasamax3/pseuds/sayasamax3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tsukishima and Yamaguchi try using each other's first names, to great effect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	First-Name Basis

“Ts-Tsukki—“

Yamaguchi is  _always_  calling his name, and Tsukishima will admit that most of the time he doesn’t care much either way.

But like this, when they are on the threshold of something  _different_ , a new kind of intimacy that they’ve only just started to explore, it’s almost bothersome and Tsukishima can’t quite pinpoint  _why._

He  _needs_  to find an answer though, and quickly, even though it’s hard to think past the weight of Yamagauchi in his lap or the feverish way they grind against each other, their cocks slick with precum and lube between them, sliding through Tsukishima’s fist because his hand is  _just_  big enough to hold them both. 

Better than his name is the  _noises_  Yamaguchi makes, sometimes high moans muffled by the way he bites his lower lip, others soft gasps and sighs whenever Tsukishima’s hand does something exceptionally  _right_  and Yamaguchi’s mouth drops open.  They’re all perfect sounds, and Tsukishima likes to feel them against his lips, so he kisses Yamaguchi again and again, relishing the warm press of their mouths and the vibrations that move between them. 

“I—I can’t, Tsukki—“ Yamaguchi breaks away with a gasp, his breathing heavy because he _always_  forgets to breathe through his nose when they kiss, but it’s okay because it just gives Tsukishima an excuse to move on to the scattered spots across Yamaguchi’s face—some acne scars, others freckles, all of them adored in secret because the level of  _sentiment_  he could express about those little marks would probably throw even Yamaguchi off a bit.

“Tadashi,” the words tumble out under Tsukishima’s breath, almost too quiet to be heard, “You too, your hand…!”

Yamaguchi keens, his voice near the breaking point as the rolling of his hips speeds up, his hand only belatedly joining Tsukishima’s between them.  There’s something so  _electric_ about their hands touching in this way, and Tsukishima’s sure he’ll remember it every time they hold hands from now on—how’s he even supposed to  _pretend_  to be cool when Yamaguchi’s around after this?

“Tsukki please,” Yamaguchi leans forward like he can’t quite hold himself up anymore, his every word a warm puff right over Tsukishima’s shoulder, “Please say it again,  _please_.”

“Ask again,” he mutters back, because it’s  _clicked_  thank goodness, even now Yamaguchi has a way of making things clear, whether he knows it or not, “A-ask again, but not with a nickname.”

Frantically Yamaguchi nods, though it seems to take him a few seconds to find his voice again, or maybe he’s just practicing, his lips moving over the shape of Tsukishima’s name again and again but never quite managing to  _project_  it.  Tsukishima almost doesn’t blame him—he can feel the tension running down Yamaguchi’s spine, down his thighs, making them clench and quake at Tsukishima’s sides, so close that he probably doesn’t remember his own name, never mind anyone else’s.

Even so—“Tadashi,” Tsukishima’s voice is barely a ragged gasp itself as he tightens his hold on them by just that much more, “Tadashi,  _say my name_.”  

It’s with a head-to-toe shudder that Yamaguchi gasps out, “Kei,  _Kei—_ “ as he comes between them, his hand trembling over Tsukishima’s, his whole body shivering in Tsukishima’s hold.  All of it—the slickening of his palm, Yamaguchi shaking even as he keeps moving against Tsukishima despite how oversensitive he must be, and the way he keeps saying  _Kei, c’mon Kei, wanna see you come too, Kei please—_ all of it is what finally takes Tsukishima and pulls him over the edge, his vision going white and spotty as his body goes tense, and then too languid to even hold his own weight, never mind Yamaguchi’s, and they both fall back onto his bed.

“Mm,” Yamaguchi hums contentedly as he curls up on top of Tsukishima, apparently very unconcerned with how filthy they are, “So d’you, uh, want me to call you that all the time? Kei?”

“God no,” Tsukishima responds, a bit too quickly, the same way his cock responds just a little too quickly to the name, for all that he’s just finished not a moment before. 

And Yamaguchi, who always understands all the embarrassing things Tsukishima doesn’t say, just muffles his chuckles against Tsukishima’s shoulder.    


End file.
